


whatever here that's left of me (is yours just as it was)

by IncognitoDuck11



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Lycanthropy is basically a chronic illness, Werewolves, cottages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/pseuds/IncognitoDuck11
Summary: Aria winces in sympathy for her, knowing that she can't understand the severity of Spencer’s symptoms. Not really. "I wish there was something I could do," she says. "I hate seeing you like this."Slumping her shoulders, Spencer picks up her fork and spears a strawberry. "I know," she murmurs. "I hate being like this."Aria tries to put on an optimistic front, reaching across the table to grab onto her wife's free hand. "Hey," she says. "You know what? It's going to be okay. You're the strongest person I know, Spence. You'll get through this today, and next month, and the month after that, too. And I'll be right there beside you. Promise."
Relationships: Spencer Hastings/Aria Montgomery
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	whatever here that's left of me (is yours just as it was)

**Author's Note:**

> Cottagecore, werewolves, Sparia, and a dash of angst? You bet! I love this little comfort fic, and I just might add more to it later on. 
> 
> Title from "As It Was" by Hozier. Give it a listen while you read :)

-.-.-.-

The sun is bright and orange on the horizon, just peeking its head over the treeline in the distance, and Aria yawns into the back of her hand as she stands in the neatly-trimmed yard of their little cottage, watering her garden. The grass is crunchy with an autumn frost, but the sun's warmth is quickly melting it, and Aria finds that the slightly cool morning air is soothing on her still-damp skin. 

She woke up sweating. It was completely expected, though, because tonight is a full moon, and Spencer usually develops a fever the day of. They have it marked on the calendar pinned up in the kitchen, and even though they always pull the downy comforter off the bed and crack open a window to let a stiff breeze into their bedroom, Aria will wake up drenched in sweat because of how warm her wife is beside her. Spencer runs hot anyway, but on the day of a full moon, her body tries in vain to burn out the otherwise dormant illness that is lycanthropy. 

The shift will be painful tonight, and Spencer rarely gets restful sleep anyway, so Aria is letting her lay in bed for a little while longer. She's already got the coffee brewed and a fresh loaf of banana bread cooling on the rack for breakfast, and she'll wake Spencer up when it's ready to eat. 

She moves over to water her sunflowers, coos at their pretty yellow petals facing the sunrise, and lets herself smile softly. Usually, the most she can do on days like this is distract herself and her wife from the upcoming change, but it's difficult, especially when she can't help but think of Spencer locked in their cellar, screaming at first, and then howling her lungs out as the wolf takes over. Right now, though? Right now, she won't let herself think of that monthly horror. Right now, she's focused on tending to her plants. Or, at least, that's what she tells herself. 

It's lucky, she thinks, that their house is so secluded, because when the tears well up in her eyes, she's glad there are no neighbors around to see. 

Aria goes back inside a few minutes later, having collected herself, and checks on the bread, which is still much too hot to eat. Then, she makes sure the coffee is still warm in its pot. Her own mug is sitting out on the coffee table in their quaint, book-crowded little living room, and she sits down on the couch, deciding to distract herself with a bit of reading while she takes idle sips of her drink. It's extra strong for Spencer, but Aria doesn't mind, at least not today. 

The book manages to capture her attention for a while, and by the time she finally sits it down, she's drained her drink and the bread is cool enough to enjoy. She wanders down the hallway to their bedroom, pokes her head in through the ajar door and sees her wife curled up under the sheet, visibly shivering, still asleep. She goes over and settles herself on the edge of the bed, reaching out to shake Spencer's shoulder. "Spence?" she says gently. "Wake up, babe. Breakfast." 

Spencer groans, rolls over onto her back and squints up at Aria. There's a sheen of sweat on her forehead and bags under her eyes. She looks rough, so Aria starts carding her fingers through her hair, scratching her nails lightly across her scalp, trying to soothe her. Spencer's eyes flutter closed, and she sighs contentedly. 

"I won't even ask how you slept." 

"I barely did," Spencer grouches, pushing herself up onto her elbows, looking pale and weak. "Usual aches and pains."

Aria moves on to stroking her cheek with her thumb. "Well, I've got your favorite made," she says, and it's worth it to see the smile that lights up Spencer's face. 

"Banana bread?" 

Aria nods, matching her grin. "Banana bread." 

While Spencer clambers out of bed and drags herself into a sweatshirt, Aria goes back into the kitchen to slice the bread, fill up two plates with a couple slices and some freshly cut strawberries. She pours Spencer and herself a fresh mug of coffee and then sets everything down on the kitchen table for them to enjoy. Spencer comes shuffling out not a minute after Aria sits down, and she plops down in her seat at the tiny, two-person table, massaging her temples. 

"I've got a massive headache." 

Aria winces in sympathy for her, knowing that she can't understand the severity of Spencer’s symptoms. Not really. "I wish there was something I could do," she says. "I hate seeing you like this." 

Slumping her shoulders, Spencer picks up her fork and spears a strawberry. "I know," she murmurs. "I hate  _ being _ like this." 

Aria tries to put on an optimistic front, reaching across the table to grab onto her wife's free hand. "Hey," she says. "You know what? It's going to be okay. You're the strongest person I know, Spence. You'll get through this today, and next month, and the month after that, too. And I'll be right there beside you. Promise." 

Tears well up in Spencer's tired eyes, and a small smile tilts her lips upward. "I love you, you know that? You always know just what I need to hear."

Aria squeezes her hand once—an acknowledgement—and then gestures to Spencer's plate. "Eat. You'll need your strength." 

-.-.-.-

The sky is set ablaze as the sun sinks below the horizon, and Aria knows that it's time. 

They go down into the cold, empty cellar, and Spencer sits down on an old blanket draped across the stone floor, wearing only a spare set of underwear that will only be torn apart as her body contorts and grows into a hulking beast. There are chains embedded in the wall, made of pure silver, and Aria kneels in front of her, locks the manacles carefully around her wife's wrists. Spencer growls low in her throat as they clamp around her skin, sizzling, and her eyes flash, irises rimmed in gold, a sign of the change to come like the leaves on the trees that border their property. 

"Aria," she manages to rasp. " _ Go _ ." 

And Aria hates this part, hates leaving her. She grabs Spencer's face and kisses her firmly on the mouth, until Spencer's pulling herself away, eyes squeezed shut. 

"Go…" she whispers. 

Aria does, getting to her feet and turning around, only for Spencer to grab her wrist. She turns back, feeling something small and circular being pushed into her hand—Spencer's wedding ring. She’d almost forgotten it.

"Keep it safe," Spencer says, and Aria slips it onto her own finger. 

"I will." 

Finally, she climbs the stairs, feet heavier than lead, and shuts the door behind her. 

As the full moon rises in the sky, Aria sits down on the couch with a cup of coffee and waits, tears in her eyes as she listens to pained screams, familiar howls. She doesn't sleep, just spins Spencer's ring around and around her finger until morning finally comes. 

When the first rays of sunlight break through the windows, she heads back downstairs to unlock Spencer from her chains.

Aria receives her with a blanket, wraps her shivering, naked form up in the woolen sheet. She herds her upstairs, into the bathroom, and sits her down on the toilet seat cover while she runs a hot bath. Spencer stares blankly at the floor all the while, and Aria kneels in front of her while the tub fills, grabs her hands and rubs some warmth back into them. She winces as she inspects the raw skin of her wife’s wrists. 

"It's over, babe," she murmurs, gently kissing Spencer’s knuckles, being careful not to hurt her. "It's over." 

She slips the ring back onto Spencer's finger, and when she looks up, her wife's eyes are wet. "Thank you," Spencer whispers.

Aria smiles, reaching up to cup Spencer’s face between her palms, stroking the pad of her thumb across her cheekbone. “Of course.” 

After a bit of a wait, the tub is finally filled, and Aria helps her into the water. Spencer settles back with a sigh, exhaustion evident in her entire being. There are a few stray bruises littering her body, no doubt from thrashing around last night, and Aria is careful of them as she gently runs a damp cloth across her skin, cleaning off the thin layer of dust and sweat that has accumulated. Spencer closes her eyes all the while, looking pale and sickly. 

Aria knows better than to ask if she’s okay. She’s not. 

Once the water turns cold and Spencer’s fingertips are pruned, Aria drains the tub and helps her stand, wrapping her up in a soft towel. Spencer sighs at the creature comfort, huddling in on herself, and Aria goes to fetch her fresh clothes, which are folded and stacked neatly on their bureau. She lets Spencer get dressed and then dabs a salve on her wrists, bandages them. Once that’s done, they curl up in bed together, Spencer’s head tucked against the curve of Aria’s throat. There’s a trash can set in front of the nightstand because the nausea will come sooner or later, but for now Spencer is resting somewhat peacefully. At least physically. She’s still trembling, though, clutching at Aria’s shirt, and Aria hears a few quiet sniffles, feels cold tears on her neck. She rubs her wife’s back in calming circles. 

“I love you,” Aria murmurs against her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of apples. “So much.” 

-.-.-.-


End file.
